


Real

by LadyVictory



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVictory/pseuds/LadyVictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cherry and blood linger on her tongue, but Tara Thornton is no fool. She needs to know if this is real, if she is good enough...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real

The handle feels like searing hot coals in the palm of her hand as Tara wrenches open the cell door.  The burn of silver is the first thing that has felt real since they took Pam away, and if she wasn’t in such a desperate hurry to assure herself her Maker was well and truly okay, she would linger on the sensation, reveling in it.  As it is, an animal sound – half screech of pain, half yowl of pleasure - escapes her mouth and she hurls herself into the taller vampire.

She had known the silver would hurt; she had stood, hesitating before the door even after the telltale click of the electronic lock disengaging had sounded, deafeningly loud in the small space.  They had looked at each other through the bars, Pam waiting patiently for Sookie to get her ass in gear, and Tara paralyzed by the thought of pain, and maybe something else.  Something like need; something real.

Her hand had vibrated, preternaturally fast in her agitation, as her former friend had realized her blunder and snapped open Jessica’s door with sheepish efficiency.  As the blonde turned though, the thought of anyone but Tara being between her and her Maker had filled her with disgust.  It was a sharp and visceral feeling, and her hand reached out on its own.

Pam’s mouth tastes vaguely of cherry lip gloss and blood.  The sound that the older vampire makes is not fierce, as one – especially Tara – would expect, but soft and tender.  Pale a hand comes up to cup a dark cheek, and it feels like coming home at last. 

At once, Tara is both weak with relief and gratitude, and stiff with fear.  Home, the mythical Home with the capital ‘H,’ is not real; never has been.  Home is a place of screaming and bruises, and the stench of alcohol and sadness.  But this is different.  This is warmth, like she has never known, and being important.  This is someone needing her as much as she needs them.  It is terrifying.

Tara can’t help the answering whimper that escapes her throat, and is ashamed.  She tries to pull away, but Pam’s other hand comes up and cradles her face.  Melting, annoyed with herself but unspeakably grateful to her Maker, Tara sighs into the kiss and returns the gesture. 

The kiss goes on much longer than a kiss during a violent rescue attempt has any right to.

“Oh,” Sookie murmurs faintly, breaking into the small world Tara’s mind has constructed to include only herself and her Maker.  “Okay.”

In her mind, Tara has turned around, eyes rolling, and made a snide remark about being _ever-so-thankful_ she has the mighty Sookie Stackhouse stamp of approval.  Pam’s hands, and her apparent psychic sense when it comes to her progeny, keep Tara from responding.

“I _knew_ it!” Jessica all but groans, obviously feeling validated and happy.  Tara can’t help but smile into the kiss; despite herself, she likes the other baby-vampire.

Pulling back only fair enough so that she can speak, Pam looks Tara in the eyes, brow crinkling minutely.  “Are you all right?”  It is the only time she has ever heard anything other than annoyance in the other vampire’s voice, and she finds herself having to swallow back emotion.  No one has ever looked at her with such raw concern for her being reflected in their eyes.

“Was okay, better now; best when we get the _fuck_ outta here.”  Her reply is an attempt at flippancy, and the slight upturn at the corners of Pam’s mouth tells her she has failed endearingly.  It makes her feel both supremely uncomfortable and safe.

“You should have stayed away; you ruined a perfectly heroic self-sacrifice,” Pam mocks gently, touching their foreheads together briefly. 

“Kids,” Tara snorts, and sighs at the odd fulfilled feeling bubbling up in her chest.  “Can’t take ‘em anywhere.” 

Pam kisses her again, briefly.  “We’ll have a talk later about your lack of common fucking sense.”

“Talk later, after we burn this place to the fucking ground.”  Tara is feeling very practical in her giddiness.  Pam chuckles and nods, pulling away and clearing her throat.

“Then by all means, lead the way G.I. Jane.”

Nodding, Tara is struck by doubt suddenly.  Not about getting out alive – she knows that between her and Jason, and of course Eric and Nora, there will be no one left standing in the Authority complex.  That is, of course, the rub.

Eric is back, for the first time since she was Made.  There has been no other person – alive or vampire – more important, or even important at all really, in Pam’s whole life.  Cherry and blood linger on her tongue, but Tara Thorton is no fool, and she knows that a century is a long time.  She is used to being tossed aside for the real thing – whatever that is at the moment, because she is never real enough – and all her wishing doesn’t make her feel secure in the face of Eric the mighty fucking Northman.

 “Is this shit for real?” she asks, turning sideways, so that she doesn’t have to look her Maker in the eyes.

Pam’s hand grips her arm hard enough to hurt – maybe even leave bruises.

“What did I tell you, before you went temporarily retarded and got us into this mess?” the older vampire demands, voice hard and flat.

“Can’t fucking remember, on account of being retarded and all,” Tara sasses, knowing exactly what Pam is looking for.  She needs to hear it again though; needs it like drowning men need air and starving men need food.  She has never been good enough; always a place holder, always replaceable.  Never real.

“Me and you,” Pam says clearly, without hesitation.  “Until we die.”

The blonde says it as if it is a given, as natural as fish swimming and vampires needing blood.  She says it as if they will die together or not at all, as if one could not be without the other.  It takes every single ounce of Tara’s self control to stop the blood-tears from spilling out of her eyes, where they push and burn.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath that she does not physically need.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”


End file.
